


Starting With a Bang

by shepardly



Series: Murphy's Law [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 14:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8449969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepardly/pseuds/shepardly
Summary: Hanzo finally caves and officially joins Overwatch, but his first mission as an official agent does not go well when he and McCree are captured by Talon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place shortly after my last Overwatch story, The One Where It Goes Wrong. It's not totally necessary to read that one, but there are a couple references to it at the beginning of this story, and will give a better idea of where relationships are at in this one.
> 
> If you've read any of my other works, you already know I'm just here to beat up your faves, but I always put them back where I find them so again, NO major character deaths will be found here.

It was nearly a week after McCree had been released from the infirmary before Hanzo quietly approached Winston about officially joining Overwatch. He had been a part of the team for nearly six months by this time, giving Athena and Winston time to research his background. He knew that some of his history was unsavoury at best, making him nervous about approaching the subject of Overwatch membership, but to his surprise he was welcomed in without much of a fuss. 

 

It was another two days later before McCree invited him to join a few teammates to go out for drinks. Hanzo fussed nervously in front of the mirror in his small bathroom, inspecting his grey slacks and white button up shirt for any imperfections. His hair was tied up and beard neatly trimmed, his dress shoes shined until he could see himself in them. He had no idea where they were going, and Jesse hadn’t given him any clues other than to ‘get gussied up’, whatever that was supposed to mean.

 

Hanzo found himself thinking about his interactions with McCree over the last couple weeks. Jesse had been confined to the med bay for the majority of the time, and they each had their reports and other duties to perform, but they always seemed to find the time to meet up, even if it was for only a few minutes a day. While Hanzo enjoyed the companionship of most of the Overwatch members he knew, he looked forward to the times when it was just him and the cowboy.

 

Finally satisfied with his appearance, Hanzo left his room to meet up with the others. The door slid open into the common area, and Hanzo stopped dead in the doorway.

 

Everyone was there. Reinhardt, Lucio, Torbjorn, Soldier, even the new recruits Junkrat and Roadhog, plus a few others he didn’t recognize. He spotted Lena and Hana chatting to McCree, who had his back to him. The cowboy looked different, having shed much of his usual gear. His chaps, serape, armour, spurs, and gun were nowhere to be seen, leaving him with his dark pants, boots, and a slightly faded red western shirt, still topped by his hat. Lena and Hana both spotted Hanzo almost immediately, and Jesse spun on a heel to see what they were looking at, a half grin still on his face from whatever it was that they had been talking about.

 

“Surprise!” Hanzo startled when nearly everyone shouted at the same time, noisemakers blowing amongst the smattering of applause. Genji appeared out of the crowd, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and firmly guiding him further into the room before he could bolt.

 

“Welcome to Overwatch, brother!” Genji nearly shouted in Hanzo’s ear, clearly at least a few drinks into celebrations already. Hanzo could see the ‘welcome!’ sign strung on the wall now, as well as the table set up with drinks and food, and realized that this had all been set up for him.

 

“How did you…?” Hanzo hadn’t told anyone, he was sure of it. He wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed or slightly annoyed at all the attention yet.

 

“Winston told me, and I told a few others, and we decided that it called for a party!” Genji’s excitement didn’t abate whatsoever. “Did we surprise you?”

 

“Yes, you surprised me.” Hanzo allowed, resigning himself to an evening of being in the spotlight, at least until he could slip away without offending anyone. “But I’ve been working with Overwatch for months already. Surely you didn’t need to…”

 

“Nonsense!” Reinhardt boomed, having come close enough to hear their conversation and clap a giant hand on Hanzo’s shoulders, “Now that it is official, an official welcome was due!”

 

“Mmhmm! Cheers, luv!” Lena darted in and planted a quick peck on his cheek while the others echoed their own welcomes.

 

“Welcome to the team, partner.” McCree grinned at him, standing relaxed with his arms folded. For some reason unknown to Hanzo, the look sent a warm feeling through his chest, and he offered a small smile in return before realization made his eyes narrow. 

 

“You were avoiding me yesterday. This is why, isn't it?”

 

McCree put his hands up in sheepish surrender.

 

“I get excited about surprises like this! Didn't want to accidentally ruin it.”

 

A beer was placed in Hanzo’s hand, and he found the night passed quickly as he drank and talked to the other Overwatch members, meeting new faces and learning more about those he had come to know already. Genji had disappeared back into the crowd, and Hanzo was grateful that McCree never left his side, introducing him to people and keeping the conversation flowing as easily as the drinks.

 

When it grew late, team members with missions the following day began to trickle out. Hanzo was one such member, and was able to slip out without much protest from those who remained at the party. He made his way down the hall towards his room, enjoying the slight buzz of alcohol in his system, when someone caught his arm just outside his room.

 

He turned to Jesse McCree, having been half expecting the cowboy to make an appearance, and found him standing a fair bit closer than he would normally allow. He realized he didn't mind, running an appreciative gaze up muscled arms and broad chest before coming to McCree’s bemused expression.

 

“Yes?” Hanzo managed to clear his throat in time to keep his voice from cracking.

 

“I just wanted to check in with you before you turned in for the night,” Jesse rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, “Did you have a good time?”

 

Hanzo deliberated for a moment, for no other reason than to see the larger man squirm uncertainly for a few seconds before responding with a slow smile.

 

“I did, thank you. I do not normally like being the centre of attention but the company was… enjoyable.”

 

“Good, that's good.”

 

There was an awkward pause, McCree looking like he wanted to say more but didn't know what to say.

 

“Well,” McCree started to say while turning, obviously intending to say goodnight and go on his way. Hanzo acted then, before he could change his mind, grabbing Jesse’s shirt to pull him down while pushing himself up not quite onto his toes, tilting his head to lock lips perfectly with the cowboy.

 

Jesse stiffened, obviously surprised, but relaxed only a short second later, crowding Hanzo against the wall as he deepened the kiss. He tasted like beer and smelled like cigars, and Hanzo realized he wanted more.

 

The kiss broke with a gasp from both of them.

 

“Wow…” was all McCree could say, looking slightly dazed. It took all of Hanzo’s self control to keep himself from kissing him again. They had a mission to complete, only a few short hours from now. Professionalism and desire waged a short battle within, and he reluctantly let the former take this one. He didn't want to rush the cowboy. They had time.

 

“We should retire for the night.” Hanzo palmed his door open and sidestepped out of Jesse’s range, “Goodnight, McCree.”

 

“Hanzo, wait,” Jesse stopped the door from sliding shut in his face and Hanzo looked at him expectantly. “Could we… maybe do that again sometime?”

 

“We could.” Hanzo smiled again. He couldn't remember the last time he had had that specific expression on his face so much as it had been this night. “Goodnight.”

 

“Sweet dreams, darlin’.” Jesse grinned, and Hanzo could hear him whistling down the hall even after his door was shut. 

 

***

 

The next day, Hanzo surveyed the courtyard below, Storm Bow nocked but not drawn. He had picked a flat topped apartment to snipe from, and had one foot up on the low wall that went around the roof. The skirmish appeared to be mostly over, with Reinhardt swinging one final blow to eliminate the Talon agent he had been facing. Lena was zipping around, doing a perimeter check before giving the all clear while McCree appeared to be going through the pockets of a dead Talon agent, probably looking for any kind of information. He didn't seem to find anything and stood, catching Hanzo’s eye and giving him a slow smile and touched the tip of his hat.

 

Hanzo could feel his ears start to burn, but he had practised keeping his face neutral for years, giving nothing away. He quickly and covertly made sure no one was watching and returned McCree’s gesture with a short nod, which only served to only make the cowboy grin wider.

 

Fool. Hanzo wasn't sure if he was calling himself or McCree one. He had no regrets about what had happened the night before in the hallway outside his room, but he wasn't sure that he was ready to show his affection publicly. While Angela definitely would have an inkling as to what was going on, she maintained her professional doctor/patient confidentiality, much to Hanzo’s eternal gratitude. It gave them time to explore the possibilities and define the nature of their budding relationship. They had time. 

 

Hanzo looked away, clearing his mind and resuming his survey of the courtyard. While he knew that it was clear, he had had a nagging feeling about this mission as soon as they had disembarked from the transport. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, even now that all the agents were taken care of. 

 

A tiny glimmer from the tower across the courtyard was the only warning he got. Instincts won over thought, and Hanzo threw himself into a desperate roll to the side, intending to drop over the edge of the building to the fire escape he knew was below.

 

Pain exploded along his right collarbone. He hit the ground hard, Storm Bow skittering across the roof and out of reach. He was still out in the open, but the building’s roof access was only a few short steps away. He forced himself up, scrambling, and all but threw himself into shelter as two more shots hit the roof.

 

“The tower.” Hanzo gasped into his com. “Sniper in the tower.”

 

His team was all but shouting over the coms and he could hear gunfire. They were coordinating a storm of the tower, but Hanzo knew that any good assassin would have an escape route and would have taken it now that their cover had been blown. 

 

Something wet had spilled down his chest, and Hanzo numbly touched the wet fabric of his kimono and gazed blankly at the crimson on his fingers. He logically knew that he was hurt, but the rest of him was still having a hard time accepting that.

 

Think, he ordered himself. The first shot had hit the right side of his collarbone, and he wasn't sure if it had gone through or not. Either the second or third shot had gone straight through his right arm, just above the elbow, but despite the pain he could already tell it was a fairly minor flesh wound. Ridiculously, he was relieved that it hadn't been his left arm to cause damage to his tattoo.

 

“Shimada. _Hanzo._ Come in, dammit!” McCree sounded angry on the com, like he had been calling for some time. Or was it worry in his voice?

 

Hanzo fumbled at the com in his ear with fingers that felt too thick. He wanted to say he was fine, to go after the sniper, but the words wouldn't come. 

 

“Jesse,” he finally managed, and that one word was what broke the dam holding back the pain. He could dimly hear McCree cursing over the com as agony whited out his vision. Hanzo could feel the rough wall at his back, and somehow managed to use it to keep from toppling over. He lost all concept of time, but the cowboy suddenly appeared beside him, startling him.

 

McCree dropped to his knees beside him and immediately pulled Hanzo’s hand from where he had been clutching at the wound in his shoulder.

 

“Aw, is that all? Shucks, even I can patch this one up.” McCree’s optimism wasn't very convincing, considering the worry that kept creeping across his face. Hanzo tried to offer a reassuring smile, but couldn't manage much more than a twitch of his lips between bouts of pain that breathing was causing.

 

McCree carefully pulled Hanzo’s shoulder away from the wall he had been slumped against, presumably checking for an exit wound, and cursed sharply. The cowboy drug him away from the wall, drawing a strangled scream from the archer. Hanzo had been injured before, but he didn't think he had ever hurt quite so badly. Judging by the grinding in his shoulder, he was fairly certain that his collarbone was broken.

 

Jesse laid him in the recovery position and was fumbling at his belt for his first aid supplies, his face looking paler than usual. He finally freed the bandages and shoved a handful of them against the back of Hanzo’s shoulder.

 

Hanzo involuntarily thrashed, his back arching in a futile attempt to escape the pain. He wanted to scream but all of the air had escaped his lungs already.

 

“Shh, it's okay darlin’, I've got you.” McCree planted his butt on the flat roof and half pulled Hanzo into his lap, getting an even firmer hold on the bandages against the exit wound. Hanzo shuddered, hands clutching at McCree’s serape like it was a life line. His breathing was harsh in his own ears. 

 

“Hanzo’s down. We need medical like five minutes ago!” McCree barked into his com. Hanzo flinched as his own com amplified the sound, and McCree pulled it from his ear and deactivated it as he listened to whatever was being said by the rest of the team.

 

“Hang on, Hanzo,” Jesse was sounding far away, and Hanzo struggled to bring him into focus. “Help is on the way.”

 

Gunfire suddenly rang out in the street below again. Jesse hissed out something under his breath when he heard what was being said on his com, but didn't let up the pressure on the wound. Hanzo could feel himself fading, but his breathing hitched when a tall figure suddenly appeared behind McCree. He tried to warn the cowboy, but soon found it wasn't necessary.

 

Jesse was suddenly standing, grabbing the Talon agent’s gun with his cybernetic hand and crumpling the metal as he punched him in the face with his other hand. The agent crashed to the ground, but two more were suddenly there. McCree dealt with them quickly and efficiently, but Talon wasn't letting up as more agents poured onto the roof. 

 

Hanzo gasped when a clawed hand grabbed him by the throat, hauling him right off the ground. Whoever had grabbed him felt like a giant, all muscles and sharp edges, holding him against their chest with his feet dangling off the ground as he clawed at the leather clad arm and kicked viciously.

 

Another clawed hand grabbed his injured shoulder and dug into the wound, ripping a scream from him.

 

Jesse spun, gun pointed directly at whoever was holding Hanzo, and he watched as the colour drained from the cowboy’s face.

 

“Drop it.” A gravelly voice barked near Hanzo’s ear. McCree started to say something, but claws twisted in Hanzo’s shoulder again. Hanzo's scream was quickly silenced when the other hand tightened, cutting his already restricted air right off.

 

“Alright! I'm doing it!” Jesse carefully set Peacekeeper on the ground and kicked it towards them, his hands in the air. His voice held a tremor. “Just… don't.”

 

The grip loosened enough for Hanzo to suck in a breath, and he tried to shout a warning, but the Talon agent sneaking up struck McCree down with a blow to the head before he could.

 

Adrenaline was an amazing natural bodily response, Hanzo knew. He wouldn't have managed grabbing Reaper’s hood, or to sit up after being violently thrown to the ground, or even reach for McCree’s Peacekeeper without it coursing through his veins. Before his fingers could close on the grip of the pistol, however, another rifle butt descended, toppling him back down to the ground.

 

Hanzo could only watch blearily as McCree was cuffed hand and foot before being manhandled up and into what looked like a specialized helicopter. He felt himself being similarly bound with his hands in front of him before being picked up and carried onboard as well, where he was dropped beside the unconscious cowboy.

 

He knew distantly that the jolts and movements meant that they were airborne, but some part of him still believed that the Overwatch team would be bursting in at any moment with guns blazing to rescue them.

 

Instead, a couple Talon agents knelt over him and began prodding at his wounds. Apparently they did not want their prisoner to die today. 

 

Hanzo’s hands were slick with his own blood, and he was vaguely aware of a warm, spreading puddle beneath his shoulder. He was losing blood at an alarming rate, but he was having a difficult time conjuring the worry he knew he should be feeling right about now.

 

He was roughly pushed onto his left shoulder, facing McCree. Antiseptic splashed the wound in his shoulder just before they started stitching him up. Hanzo gritted his teeth, refusing to show weakness even in his semi-conscious state. Jesse was lying close enough that Hanzo managed to grab a fistful of serape, hanging on tightly as the darkness finally dragged him down. 

 

***

 

Hanzo startled awake and tried to sit up, but instantly regretted the movement as agony lit him up. He sank back down, panting in pain, and tried to make sense of his surroundings.

 

He was alone in a dark, empty cell; the walls, ceiling and floor made up of the same cold stone and not a bit of furniture anywhere. His cuffs were gone, and he was laying on his side on a soft fabric that also covered his upper body. It took a moment before he recognized McCree’s serape wrapped around him. Despite the warm fabric, he was still shivering from cold, aggravating his injuries further, and his left arm was dead asleep underneath him.

 

He knew he should get up and inspect his surroundings more closely, and he was worried about McCree, but any movement sent spikes of pain through his shoulder. Another attempt to sit up made his vision go grey and his ears roared, and he slumped to the ground in a semi-conscious daze. 

 

It felt like ages later when he heard a door scrape open, but blood loss had absolutely murdered his reaction time, only allowing him to open his eyes a fraction by the time a battered and worried looking McCree loomed over him.

 

“Hanzo? You hear me, sweetheart?” Jesse gently patted his cheek, and Hanzo unconsciously turned his face into the warmth as he weakly nodded.

 

“Oh, thank God.” Jesse nearly slumped in relief, before straightening and checking the bandages on Hanzo’s shoulder and arm. “You had me worried, there.”

 

“Where-” Hanzo didn't realize how parched he was until his voice cracked, making him wince at the pain in his throat. Jesse seemed to understand, anyway, and moved away to grab something nearby. Hanzo realized then that McCree’s metal prosthetic arm was missing.

 

“We're in a Talon base. Don't know where, exactly.” Jesse produced a small plastic cup from somewhere and carefully helped Hanzo get a few sips down, a little awkwardly with one arm. “How are you holding up?”

 

“I am… fine.” It fell flat even on his own ears. “You are injured.”

 

McCree self-consciously adjusted the collar of his torn and bloodied shirt, but it did nothing to hide the bruising around his neck. He had a black eye quickly developing and his top lip was split, as if he had been punched in the face.

 

“They just roughed me up a bit. Nothing I can't handle.” McCree reassured him. Hanzo made another attempt to at least sit up again, and nearly screamed when bone shifted in his shoulder. Everything went hazy, and the next thing Hanzo was aware of was being cradled back to chest with the cowboy. “Just stay still, darlin’. You’re gonna be okay.”

 

Jesse adjusted the serape over them and shifted a bit, obviously trying to avoid jostling Hanzo. The position the cowboy was sitting in couldn’t be terribly comfortable for him, but it provided them both with some much needed warmth. The cell was freezing.

 

Hanzo could feel himself trembling, and he wasn't entirely sure if it was from cold or pain. Very possibly both. The Talon agents had done a rough patch job on his wound that had as good as stopped the bleeding, but he didn’t think that there had been anything done about broken bones.

 

“I’m sorry.” Jesse’s quiet voice snapped him back to awareness. 

 

“For what?” Hanzo’s sluggish brain couldn’t pinpoint what the cowboy could be apologizing for.

 

“For getting us into this mess. I should have been keeping a better eye out.”

 

“Then I must apologize as well. If I had not been injured, we would not be here.”

 

“That wasn’t your fault.” McCree protested, “That Widowmaker is a downright mean and scary-good sniper. And Reaper is just downright mean and scary.”

 

“It wasn’t your fault, either.” Hanzo would have pressed the point to make sure that McCree understood, but exhaustion was creeping over him, weighing his eyes shut and making him forget why he shouldn’t let them do that.

 

“Hey, you with me, darlin’?” Jesse stirred behind him, startling him awake. Hanzo blinked blearily and managed a nod. “You gotta stay awake, okay? It’s too cold in here and you’ve lost too much blood to be nodding off right now.”

 

Hanzo realized that was what he had been forgetting. Don’t sleep. He wanted nothing more than to let himself slip into the comforting darkness, but he knew Jesse was right. He might not wake up again, considering the conditions.

 

“I understand.” 

 

“Talk to me. Tell me something about the enigmatic Shimada Hanzo that no one else knows.”

 

Hanzo snorted, only just remembering not to let his shoulders shake.

 

“What? Don't trust me?” Jesse pretended to be offended.

 

“No, I was more surprised you know the word and proper usage of ‘enigmatic’.”

 

“You wound me, Shimada. Ya really do.” Jesse sighed dramatically, but Hanzo could practically hear him grinning. 

 

They passed the time exchanging stories of their respective childhoods; Hanzo detailing Genji’s antics as a youth, and Jesse describing the floppy eared cattle where he grew up and explaining some of his cowboy euphemisms. 

 

The door slammed open unexpectedly, startling them both. Jesse immediately began to rise, moving Hanzo carefully, but pain shot through his shoulder anyway. 

 

“Jesse-” Hanzo gripped McCree’s shirt sleeve, unwilling to let him go, and the four large Talon agents bearing down on them was not helping with that particular reluctance.

 

“Do you want to sit or lay down?” McCree asked quietly but urgently. Hanzo despaired. This was going to happen, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

 

“Let me sit. Jesse-”

 

Jesse propped him up against the wall, and made sure he wouldn't topple over. The agents descended then, two of them grabbing McCree and dragging him toward the door while the other two played spare guard, obviously losing interest when Hanzo stayed down. 

 

“Just stay awake, okay, Hanzo?” Jesse called over his shoulder, his brow furrowed with worry. “Promise me!”

 

The door clanged shut, leaving Hanzo in the dark and cold, alone again. The worry on Jesse’s face had been for him, not for himself.

 

“I promise.” Hanzo said softly into the dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Hanzo heard footsteps coming up the hallway, but he still flinched when the door banged open again. He had managed to stay awake, but it had been a battle and one he had nearly lost a few times. He waited anxiously now, waiting for Jesse to stroll through, and his stomach clenched when he saw two agents dragging a limp, familiar form between them.

McCree crashed to the floor where they dropped him and didn't move, even after the agents left and shut the door again.

“Jesse.” Hanzo’s throat was parched again, the meagre supply of water long gone, making it difficult to raise his voice to more than a whisper. _“Jesse!”_

The cowboy didn't stir. 

Hanzo braced himself and somehow pushed himself to his feet. Bone shifted and he felt faint, but he managed to stagger to where Jesse lay, clutching the serape about himself. Fear gripped him, his heart pounding. His knees gave out and he crashed to the floor beside the motionless cowboy.

Pain lit him up, stealing his breath and whiting out his vision. He fought to cling to consciousness, determinedly pushing the darkness away enough to see. Jesse’s cheek was pressed against the cold stone, blood trickling from his nose and hairline as his breathing rattled in his chest. Hanzo dragged himself closer, laying on his left shoulder and pressing his body against Jesse’s side, trying to share his body warmth as well as the serape.

“McCree.” Hanzo’s voice was pitifully weak, but he tried again anyway. “Jesse, wake up.”

It was getting harder to stay awake. Warmth slipped across his shoulders, and Hanzo realized with a start his wound was bleeding again, likely torn open by his movements. He fumbled at his chest beneath the serape, blood leaking through the sodden bandages and his fingers, but he couldn't reach the wound in his back.

Despair washed through him. Captured by Talon and bleeding to death; he of all people should know how easily it could all be ripped away. He had thought they had time. 

“Jesse,” the whisper fell from his lips just as the darkness roared over him.

***

Jesse awoke with a groan, head pounding. His body registered the cold next, and all the events leading up to him being face down in a freezing cell suddenly came rushing back to him. He had been taken twice now for questioning by none other than the infamous Reaper.

He had feared that they would go straight to reconditioning, turning him into a brainwashed agent like Widowmaker. Reaper had taken great delight in explaining how they wouldn't do that right away, as they wanted to glean as much information from him as possible before they began wiping his mind. Such tactics erased memories and personalities, and Reaper was going to learn as much he could in the meantime.

McCree was made of sterner stuff than Talon knew, having gone through all the dirty tactics from Deadlock and Blackwatch alike. He refused to give up anything, although he fed Talon some false information that would take days if not weeks for them to confirm themselves, just to buy him and Hanzo some more time. However, his stubbornness had still bought him a couple cracked ribs and what felt like a fractured cheekbone.

Jesse peeled sticky eyes open, and Hanzo’s face swam into view. His eyes were closed, and he looked almost peaceful as he slept. It took another moment before it registered with Jesse that sleep did not necessarily mean good things for someone in Hanzo’s condition.

“Shit,” Jesse groaned as he pushed himself up painfully, shivering as his serape slipped off of his back and exposed him to the cold. His whole body ached, and shooting pains reminded him of the more severe injuries he had sustained during his second questioning session. “Hanzo. C’mon, sweetheart. Wake up.”

No response. Cold tendrils of fear wound around his heart and tightened. Jesse frantically felt Hanzo’s neck for a pulse, cursing Talon for leaving him down an arm, and froze when he accidentally knocked the serape from Hanzo’s shoulder.

Fresh blood glistened on Hanzo’s chest, and a quick look was enough to confirm that the ugly exit wound was worse.

Jesse managed to get his feet under him and staggered to the door, where he proceeded to bang it with his fist, throwing in a few kicks as well. 

“Hey! Assholes!” He yelled out the small barred opening in the door, “Unless you want a dead prisoner on your hands, you better get a medic in here, _now!”_

He banged a few more times, hoping someone had caught enough of that, before hurrying back. Jesse pulled Hanzo onto his side so that his chest pressed against Jesse’s legs where he knelt, allowing him to apply pressure to his back without pushing his face into the cold stone.

Hanzo faintly moaned at the pressure on the wound, his fingers twitching, but didn't move otherwise.

“Hanzo! C’mon, partner, talk to me.” Jesse cursed his lack of arm again, unable to pat Hanzo’s cheek to help bring him around. Hanzo groaned again, but his eyes fluttered open.

Before Jesse could say anything else, the door banged open again. Looking over his shoulder, he watched four guards, someone who was probably a medic, and a familiar figure from his nightmares stride into the room.

Two of the guards grabbed McCree and shoved him against the wall to restrain him, one of them painfully digging his fingers into his empty arm socket like it was a handle. 

The medic looked Hanzo over, checking his pulse and breathing and the state of the wound, but instead of treating it like Jesse expected, he stood and nodded at Reaper, who turned to Jesse. 

“Tell me why I should bother wasting the resources treating him.” Reaper’s tone of voice suggested talking about the weather would be a more exciting topic for him. Jesse couldn't pull his eyes from Hanzo, who was pulled to his knees and held against the guard’s legs only by a large hand around his throat. He clawed weakly with his good arm at the hand holding him, but it didn't take long for his strength to be spent and his arm dropped limply to his side. His ruined kimono had slipped off his shoulder, alarming amounts of blood streaked his chest, and he looked to be barely conscious, blearily watching Jesse through hooded eyes.

“He's an Overwatch agent.” Jesse put as much anger as he dared into his voice. “He knows as much if not more than what you seem to think I know.”

***

Hanzo struggled to follow what Jesse and the shadowy figure were talking about, feeling like he could tip off the edge of consciousness at any second. He was surprised to have awoken, but he couldn't remember why that was surprising. His brain felt foggy and everything hurt. The hand around his throat was loose enough that he could breathe, but it was with some difficulty.

Reaper was laughing.

“I have it on good authority he was only added as an agent less than a week ago.” Reaper sneered at McCree. “Don't even try to pretend he would know anything of value to me.”

“He's been with us for six months.” Jesse pressed stubbornly. “Are you really willing to take that risk?”

Reaper sauntered over to where Hanzo knelt, seemingly studying him through his white mask. Hanzo weakly bared his teeth in a snarl at him, cursing his injuries and weakness. The guard holding him grabbed his wounded shoulder, wrenching a painful scream from him as agony coursed through him. He vaguely heard Jesse shout something, but he sounded distant.

Reaper turned away and approached Jesse, who was struggling where he was still pinned to the wall.

“Here's how it's going to be, cowboy.” Reaper’s growl had taken an even sharper edge. “You're going to tell me what I want to know, and I'll get your little boyfriend here all the treatment he needs. If you don't cooperate, I'm taking everyone here out right now and you can watch while he dies slowly.”

The hand on Hanzo’s shoulder ground into his wound again, yanking a strangled cry from him before he gritted his teeth to cut it off. Warm blood slipped down his chest and back again.

“Maybe not so slowly.” Reaper amended darkly. 

“McCree, say nothing-” Hanzo managed to gasp out before grasping at the hand that tightened on his throat, cutting off his air. Just when he thought he would pass out, the grip loosened and he sucked in a breath. Jesse and Reaper were still talking, but Jesse sounded broken. His head reeling, Hanzo couldn't make out the words anymore.

Jesse looked at him again, and Hanzo’s breath caught at the pain he saw there. They were _hurting_ him. 

The familiar thrum of his dragons pulsed beneath his skin, filling his head with the sound of their rage and eagerness. He didn't hold Storm  
Bow, and his own helpless rage joined with his dragon’s.

He didn't even register that he had raised his arm, reaching towards Jesse until he saw the cowboy’s eyes widen. His eyes fell to his arm, and he saw why; his tattoo was glowing and pulsing, threatening to break free. He had never called them forth without speaking or using a weapon before. 

Within one breath and the next, they broke free anyway.

The spirit dragons burst forth with a roar, energy crackling through the air around them. With no arrow to guide them they raged wildly, but still struck true. The Talon agents tried to run, but it was too late. The dragons tore through them with no mercy. Reaper snarled back at the dragons, roaring in pain as they tore at him, but he took his shadow form and fled.

The dragons returned quietly and suddenly, extinguishing the light that had suddenly flooded the cell. Jesse stared wide eyed at Hanzo, like he had never seen him before in his life. Knowing how intimidating the dragons could be up close like that, Hanzo tried to offer a reassuring smile, just as he pitched headfirst onto the stone floor.

***

Jesse scrambled over to Hanzo, carefully turning him onto his side and checking for a pulse, which was weak but thankfully present. His ears were still ringing from the spirit dragon’s attack, but he was somehow unharmed, even though he knew without a doubt one of them had passed directly through him. He felt the ground shake under him, and wondered how much damage the dragons had caused in their wild spree.

Another boom and gunfire made him realize that it wasn't the dragons that were causing the noise and rumbling. He could hear Lúcio’s music blasting, and Reinhardt’s joyful shouting. Jesse ran to the door, but the door had been automatically locked. 

“Here! We're in here!” He yelled, pressing his head against the slot in an attempt to see up the hallway towards the commotion. He couldn't see anything, and Hanzo let out a pained cry behind him and he returned quickly.

“Hanzo,” Jesse wanted nothing more than to pick him up and carry him out of there, but his missing arm made it impossible. Hanzo was still on the floor with a puddle of blood beneath him, hyperventilating, his breathing rapid and shallow even as his face turned grey. “Oh God, Hanzo-”

“Cavalry’s here, luvs!” Tracer’s chipper shout came from outside the door just before Reinhardt’s hammer broke it down. McCree crouched over Hanzo, instinctively protecting him from any flying pieces.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder as a yellow stream of light washed over them. McCree looked up to see Mercy at work, the healing beam of her staff lighting up the room.

“Ang,” Jesse croaked, “am I ever glad to see you.”

Mercy smiled gently at him, and everything went a bit hazy after that. All the damage that Reaper had done was making itself known, even as the Caduceus system began wiping it away. Someone produced his cybernetic arm from somewhere and helped him reattach it, but he barely noticed as he stayed by Hanzo’s side as Mercy worked. 

Hanzo was too still and pale on the floor, crimson blood and serape painting a stark contrast. Angela murmured to herself as she assessed him, making note of broken bones and the wound in his arm that Jesse had nearly forgotten about in the chaos.

“We need to get them back to the base.” Jesse heard Mercy say down a tunnel as he tried to cover Hanzo as best as he could with the bloodied serape.

“I can carry him.” Jesse volunteered, lurching to his feet and nearly losing his balance. Tracer and Mercy caught him, and he had to lean on them more heavily than he intended.

“I'll carry him.” Soldier: 76 said, shooting McCree a pointed look.

“Might be a good idea, actually.” Jesse slurred, knees threatening to buckle, “Lena, you might have to carry me.”

“Don't even joke about that, McCree.” Tracer groaned, “I think you must eat bricks for breakfast!”

“Are you calling me fat?” Jesse attempted to joke, but his voice faltered.

“Jesse?” A couple voices called his name in alarm, but he couldn't tell who it had been.

“I'm fine,” he started to say, just as his knees buckled, eyes rolling in his head as he passed out. 

***

Hanzo first became aware of laying on a soft surface, followed by gentle beeps and whooshing sounds. If he were to guess, he'd say he was in the med bay back at the Overwatch base, but he couldn't remember how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was falling on his face after the unexpected release of his dragons. He tried opening his eyes, but they stayed stubbornly shut after fluttering momentarily. His furrowed his brow, and he heard the quiet beeps speed up.

“He's waking up!” He heard an excited whisper, then someone was gently touching his face, pushing his hair off his brow.

“Hanzo, darlin’, can you hear me?” The familiar timbre wiped the frown off his face. Hanzo tried again to open his eyes and managed to prop them open at about half mast to look up at an exhausted looking McCree. “There you are. You gotta stop scaring me like that, sweetheart.”

“Yes, brother, you'll cause this old man to have heart failure if you keep that up.” Genji clapped hands on McCree’s shoulders before dodging a smack from the cowboy.

“I ain't that much older than you, boy.” McCree grumbled, but there was no heat in his voice.

“I was always taught to respect my elders, so yes sir, whatever you say, sir.” Genji rounded the end of the bed Hanzo was in to put it between him and another smack. “But seriously, brother, I'm glad to see you in one piece.”

Hanzo tried to respond, but his parched throat made his voice crack badly. Lena seemed to appear out of nowhere with a cup, and McCree slipped him a few ice chips at a time until his throat felt better.

“What happened?” He was finally able to ask.

“Oh! Hanzo, it was so brilliant how you chased off Reaper, it made our job so much easier!” Lena excitedly launched into her story. “Once we found you, it was mostly a matter of dragging you lugs back to the transport thanks to you!”

Hanzo slid his gaze over to McCree. Last he remembered, McCree had been upright and conscious, but it sounded like he hadn't stayed that way. Jesse guiltily turned his gaze away, scratching behind his ear and pretending to put all his focus on Lena’s descriptions, actions included.

Despite Lena’s exciting tale of their escape with Genji’s input here and there, Hanzo felt himself drifting off. He wasn't sure if it was just from being tired or the drugs Dr Ziegler had him on, but it seemed like he had just blinked when Jesse took his hand. Hanzo opened his eyes to see that they were alone.

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you.” Jesse cringed, looking guilty.

“It is alright. I did not mean to fall asleep.” Hanzo blinked blearily, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. His voice was still a bit hoarse, but it didn't hurt to speak anymore. 

“That's alright, it's good, you need to sleep to heal up good.” Jesse patted his hand. “How you feeling? You look pretty groggy.”

“Tired, and sore.” Hanzo admitted. “Are you well?”

“Yeah, I'll be fine. Mercy’s staff fixed me up fine, but she's got me benched for this week.” Jesse cleared his throat and caught Hanzo’s gaze. “You really had us worried, there. Your shoulder was busted up bad enough, but you lost a lot of blood. Massive blood loss, I think Ang said. We're lucky Genji knew your blood type.”

“I am sorry.” Hanzo weakly squeezed Jesse’s hand. “I did not mean to worry you.”

“That's alright. Wouldn't have it any other way.” Jesse paused, processing what he had just said and realizing how it sounded. “I mean, I don't like that you got hurt, I just meant I don't mind worrying…”

Hanzo started laughing at his awkward rambling as Jesse buried his head in his hands.

“I'm like a tongue-tied buffoon,” Jesse moaned into his hands, “Gosh darnit, Hanzo, what have you done to me.”

“I suspect it’s something similar to what you’ve done to me.” Hanzo smiled. He was fairly certain the drugs that Dr Ziegler had him on were making him bolder than he would normally be, but found he didn’t care.

“Oh yeah?” McCree perked up eagerly, “If that’s so, you think maybe we could skip right to the part where we hold hands and go for long walks on the beach? No, wait, don't answer that. I ain't asking out a man drugged to his eyeballs in a hospital bed.”

Hanzo had to concede that point, but looked pointedly at their clasped hands on the bed before narrowing his eyes at Jesse.

“Beach? Have you been hiding a beach from me?”

“Well, not here, but I know a place.” Jesse grinned. “With us both benched, I bet we could get leave to go. You in?”

“Do I get a drink with an umbrella in it?”

“Yes.” McCree instantly responded, already plotting how to get a picture of such an event. 

“Then no, I am not in.”

“Aw, Hanzo!” Jesse whined, hopes dashed. “Okay, fine, no mini umbrellas involved. Sake on the beach?”

“Mmm, much more tempting.” Hanzo nodded, barely managing to open his eyes again after a slow blink.

“I'll see what I can do.” Jesse squeezed his hand again. “You should get some more rest in the meantime.”

Hanzo hummed in agreement, his eyes already slipping shut. Jesse made to quietly stand and leave, but Hanzo caught his hand tightly and cracked his eyes open again.

“Stay?” Hanzo sleepily asked. “If you have the time.”

Jesse kissed him on the forehead before sitting again, a fond smile on his face.

“I got all the time in the world, darlin’.”


End file.
